


Bloodsport

by doxian



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Alternia, Blood, Blood Drinking, Consent Issues, F/F, Gift Exchange, Injury, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Rainbow Drinkers, Temporary Character Death, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doxian/pseuds/doxian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her soft exhalation of breath whispers past the shell of your ear as you finally bite down. This helps her as much as it does you. It takes the edge off. After a feeding she's always mellow and a little dopey and it still hits you hard that she allows you any of this - not just her blood but the vulnerability that comes with giving it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodsport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nago/gifts).



> Warning for not-sexual stuff being done to someone against their will. 
> 
> If it helps, they are all young adults in this AU.
> 
> Prompter, I have to apologize because I only really filled half of the prompt orz. I hope you enjoy the bits of it I managed to write, though.
> 
> Thank you to Neigedens for helping me brainstorm!

_Kanaya_

She comes back with frenetic energy sluicing off of her in waves, occasionally steeped in the scent of fresh kills - vermillion and burgundy and blackcurrant. That doesn't happen often. A Legislacerator's duty is, primarily, to apprehend, not terminate, but run-ins with suspects are commonplace. 

She always washes the blood off. Not just for your benefit - leaving bloodstains on one's garments is the very antitheis of professionalism. Indulging in the esoteric, self-indulgent art of rainbow painting is best left to the Subjugglators. Legislacerators are all about dispatching efficiently. Dispelling the lingering smells, however, takes more than a bit of scrubbing, but you appreciate the effort nonetheless.

You hear her footsteps in the hall before you see her. She moves as silent as a shadow, but that's still not quiet enough for your amplified hearing. She shoves the door open with her cane and grins at you. She must be particularly wired tonight because she just gives you a perfunctory hello before she grabs your hand and gently yet assertively steers you towards your pile of pretty scraps of fabric and old finery - some of which you'd made yourself, sweeps in the past when you had time for such things. Once you're settled down, she pulls you awkwardly to her chest and the contrast between you is so _obvious_ , like this - the wiriness and sharpness of her tiny frame against your tall one. 

"Well, Vanguard Maryam, it has been a long night and you must be very hungry!" she tilts her head to one side, and her arms are wound tight and secure around your thorax.

You're well accustomed to this by now - the way time seems to slow down and the way everything about your respective anatomies suddenly stands out. Every pump of her blood pusher and expansion and contraction of her blood conduction tunnels beats a mesmerizing rhythm that draws you closer with every pulse. This is nothing like the pressing urgency of the hunt or the agonizing mundanity of sipping the flat, tasteless blood that's bottled and sold after inevitably sitting for a few nights first. Being able to drink peacefully and without any kind of preliminary struggle feels almost like a luxury. (Because it is.)

You get her to lift her head and carefully push her hair out of the way. There's a fleck of azure at the juncture of jaw and neck, along the line of her throat, she must have missed it, and your attention hones in on it like a knife. You rub at the mark with your thumb until it goes away, feeling her watching you from out of the corner of her eye, behind the red glint of her glasses, waiting.

Her soft exhalation of breath whispers past the shell of your ear as you finally bite down. This helps her as much as it does you. It takes the edge off. After a feeding she's always mellow and a little dopey and it still hits you hard that she allows you any of this - not just her blood but the vulnerability that comes with giving it. 

Her blood spills from from the two neat punctures and rises up to meet your tongue. You don't have any of Terezi's ability to taste the colors that you drink, but the blood carries a miniscule sense of the person it comes from. Nothing terribly distinguishing, but a difference in quality. Terezi's may taste rich and heady, but you've also tasted blood with a singularly unpleasant aftertastes. Of acid, of wood.

You suck more to the surface and lap it up until you're no longer hungry - which fortunately seems to coincide with how much Terezi can manage in each session. Her hands inch further and further up your back as you drink until one of her palms rests at the base of your neck and she pricks your skin with her claws. Not because of the slight pain she feels, just because she wants to. You've done this enough times that you can recognize that by now.

Once you're done, she releases you and looks up at you with a placid, satisfied expression that you imagine is mirrored on your own face, too. That's another thing about these feeding sessions - they always make you wonder about moirallegiance, and sex, and whether the two are always exclusionary. It's an idle thought. 

"So how was your night?" you ask, making yourself comfortable next to her on the pile.

\--

You're working when Karkat messages you, so you ignore him at first. He should know better than to send you chats now. But the insistent vibrating of your communication device is starting to attract a few Looks, which pushes you to snap it off your belt and take a look.

♋: KANAYA.  
♋: OKAY I KNOW YOU'RE BUSY DOING YOUR FUCKING JOB. GUARDING HER IMPERIAL SUPERCILIOUSNESS WHILE SHE PICKS OUT NEW JEWELS FOR HER EARFINS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK.   
♋: BUT YOU NEED TO STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING. RIGHT NOW.   
♋: OH GOD  
♋: KANAYA COME ON  
♍: Karkat I Do Not Appreciate You Disturbing Me When As You So Helpfully Pointed Out  
♍: I Am Working  
♍: What Seems To Be The Problem  
♋: THE ***PROBLEM*** IS THAT YOUR MOIRAIL IS BLEEDING OUT IN MY FUCKING ARMS AFTER GOING TOE TO TOE WITH AN HONEST TO GOD HOARDE OF FUCKING GAMBLIGNANTS AND IT WAS ALL. MY. FAULT. THAT THIS HAPPENED  
♋: I NEED SOMEWHERE SAFE TO TAKE HER, YOU KNOW IF ANYONE ELSE SEES HER IN THIS CONDITION SHE'LL JUST GET CULLED  
♋: I'VE TRIED TO STOP THE BLEEDING. THERE'S SO MUCH OF IT.  
♋: OH GOD, HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN???  
♍: Tell Me Where You Are  
♍: Quick  


Your breath is coming sharp and rapid. You look away from the screen. Karkat's guess wasn't off - you're guarding the Empress during an extravagant luncheon with some of her highest advisers, and while the risk is low here you can't exactly just take off, either. 

♍: Nepeta  
♍: Are You Currently At The Palace  
♍: I Need Your Assistance   
♍: I Am Sorry I Would Not Ask You For This Usually But I Must Deal With An Urgent Matter   
♌: :33 < hi kanaya!   
♌: :33 < yes i am   
♌: :33 < whats wrong?   
♍: Terezi Is In Danger  
♍: I Have To Leave  
♍: But Someone Must Relieve Me At Her Highness Side  
♍: So I  
♌: :oo < your meowrail is in trouble?  
♌: :33 < you should go to her at once, i can take care of things here!  
♍: Thank You 

You tell Nepeta where you are and the other chat window blips as Karkat sends you his and Terezi's location. Then you bite your lip and focus on keeping your face impassive. Eventually you hear a soft series of taps on the main door to the hall, which you are standing directly in front of. 

The Empress gives you a questioning look as you duck out and let Nepeta take your place. Her Tyrian-rimmed goggles reflect rays of light from the opulent tableware in front of her and from the candelabra hanging from the vaulted ceiling. You'll probably get questioned about this later, but you can't care about that now.

You leave the palace grounds and wait until you're covered by the surrounding forest before breaking out into a run.

\--

_Terezi_

You seem to be sprawled, supine, on a beach somewhere - an endless stretch of yucky beige converging with murky, tumultuous blue-green. Aside from Karkat's delicious candy red swathed in uniform grey, and the explosion of cool shades spattering the beach - your own color among them - you're aware of an odd yet reassuring combination of licorice and pine needles. Sometime between your passing out and waking up again, Kanaya had arrived.

You're having a hard time keeping track of the smells around you. Everything is clear one moment, and the next it's all swirled together in one big confusing miasma and you can't tease out any one scent no matter how hard you try. There's something off about the noises, too. The rush of the waves fills your ears but then tapers off seemingly into the distance, vanishes, reprises. 

You're dimly aware of Karkat's presence swimming in and out of your consciousness. You can't make out words but his voice is strained in that intensely worried yet unconsciously adorable way of his. He is talking in quick staccato, and you try to tell him to shush but your tongue is sealed to the roof of your mouth. When you try to get up to investigate what in the world is going on, you can't seem to get your limbs to move, either. Somehow you feel both numb and weighted down and as though you're about to drift away out to sea.

There's a thumping sound. Karkat's voice stops. The lovely licorice-and-pine smell comes closer and then Kanaya is holding you by the shoulders as if she's about to take a drink...

She bites you, and this is nothing like the other times, it's rough and panicked and desperate and she's barely in control. She sucks the very life out of you in deep gulps, and even when you've reached your limit she keeps going. You want to tell her to stop, but you still can't speak, you try and bring your hands up to touch her but you can't do that, either. It's only when you're weak and completely exhausted that she finally releases you.

Before you pass out again, you feel the cold press of her wrist against your lips, and a trickle of forest-green liquid drips into your mouth.


End file.
